


Red Flowers

by junkienicky



Series: Snapshots [8]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Season/Series 04, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 04:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20540048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkienicky/pseuds/junkienicky
Summary: Franky never cared for flowers, until she realised they give a sense of comfort.





	Red Flowers

Franky slid her feet into her brown shoes and stood to brush down her trousers. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror and before she had the opportunity to dwell on her appearance, she padded out from the bathroom and made her way towards the kitchen.

Funerals were a strange concept to Franky. Though she imagined it mostly depends on the circumstance, she assumed most of the deceased would prefer their family and friends to spare from sadness. She tried and was _trying_ to push her mind more towards sweet contemplation and fond thoughts. Unfortunately, the differed moments and memories of herself and Bea inflicted feelings of a guilty emotion above any other. What’s more, the knowledge of Ferguson still being around to manipulate and grovel at her well-paid lawyer’s feet was nauseatingly sickening to Franky’s low and empty stomach. Justice wasn’t shit.

Finding her throat dry, she collected a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it to the brim before taking a big gulp. With her head essentially in a static overload, she didn’t realise Bridget was stood by the dinner table, putting on a blue jacket.

The couple exchanged brief, warm glances until Bridget mumbled something about allowing George the cat half an hour out in the garden before he went haywire. Franky regarded the Siberian fluffball with a little smile before he scooted out of the patio doors and into the green grass.

Once Franky tipped the remaining water from her glass and into the sink, Bridget approached the woman and let their hands entwine. Franky’s were warm, as always, and she gave them a comforting squeeze.

“You okay?” Bridget said, softly.

“Yep. You?”

“Mm, hm,” The psychologist nodded. She laced her hands up the sleeves of Franky’s black blazer and around her neck. Their forehead’s pressed together and Franky’s eyes flicked shut when the two settled in a gentle, swaying rhythm.

After they’d stood like that for a few minutes, they finally pulled apart with smiles. “I bought a bunch of flowers last night,” Bridget remarked as she broke apart slightly to retrieve them from the kitchen island. “The woman in the shop didn’t have many left because it was late, except for roses. I thought I’d get a mix of the two.” Franky’s eyes dropped to the bundle of plants and she brought her hands back around Bridget’s small form to gently squeeze below her rib cage. “I thought I’d take them to Wentworth and hand them out to the women. Maybe you could take some to her funeral?” She offered.

Franky’s pale lips were widened by a thin smile. “They’re fucking perfect,” She said with integrity. She let a hand cup the side of Bridget’s face and traced the skin of her delicate cheek with a thumb. Her smile faltered and the woman noticed.

Bridget hesitated for a second, before saying, “It’ll all be okay.”

Franky nodded briefly and ducked her head to meet Bridget with a slow kiss. She pulled back and thanked her until she pressed a longer kiss to her partner’s forehead.

“Shall I make breakfast?” Bridget asked. Usually, nothing could pull Franky away from any opportunity to cook. She could be up to her eyes in flu and draped in blankets and it would still be far from defeat to take a rest from her favourite hobby. This time, Bridget thought that may not be the case.

Franky rolled her head back and eyed the ceiling in a mini, perky debate. “Ooh. I dunno, Gidge. Sure you wanna set fire to our kitchen again?” It turned out Bridget’s suspicion had led her astray.

“Fire!? You bloody cheek. Barely!” Bridget chuckled heartily. She cupped Franky’s face and pulled her close for another playful smooch.

“Whatever!” The paralegal grinned. “Smoke’s halfway to a fire, Gidget,” She added, giving the woman a pat on her behind. “Come on, shift your arse out the way, I’ve got morning grub to make.”

Laughing, Bridget stepped aside and focused on sharing out the bundle of flowers. She ripped open the wrapping and created two separate, even groups of mostly white and a few red roses whilst eggs sizzled in a pan behind her.

“Hey, Bridget?” Franky said after a while.

“Hm?”

“Nice idea with the flowers, babe,” She smiled, then paused in thought before adding, “Make sure I get one of the red ones, would ya?”

“Course,” Bridget replied. She gently pulled a crimson petalled rose out of the packaging by the stalk and added it to Franky’s pile.

Distracted from her cooking, Franky glared at the redness of the plant for moment. It was comforting to know she’d still see Red in some places.

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is greatly appreciated!


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